Power of Suggestion
by LaylaBinx
Summary: AKA: Five Times Merritt Hypnotized Someone On The Team. Basically my excuse for Merritt big-brothering the hell out of everyone on the team at least once.


**Hello all! I hope you're doing well! I've been tinkering with this idea for a while now and finally got around to writing it! Hopefully Merritt doesn't come across as too OOC; I just love the "found family" trope and I think he would big-brother the hell out of all of them if it came down to it! Also, I should stress that I know next to nothing about real hypnosis so a lot of this is just off the top of my head. Hope you guys enjoy! :D**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing =/**

* * *

Henley is crying. She's doing her best to hide it, curled up in a cloth-back chair and staring out at the skyline silently. Her knees are drawn to her chest, her elbow propped on top of them, and the knuckles of one hand are pressed against her lips. A single tear slides down the side of her face but the redness of her eyes indicates it wasn't the first and most likely won't be the last. She's normally all bright smiles and playful banter but today she's quiet and pensive and upset. Henley shouldn't be crying but she is and that's a problem.

Merritt says nothing at first, he just watches her from across the room silently. She doesn't even seem to notice he's there which is just another tip on the iceberg of concern he's trudging toward. Henley, like the others in their group, is sharp and alert at all times; she notices everything and works with it in that order. She doesn't notice him now, though, she just keeps staring out the window.

It's just the two of them in the apartment at the moment; Jack had slipped out earlier for some kind of errand and he has no clue where Daniel is. Merritt frowns at the position he's found himself in and takes a slow, cautious step into the living room. He's not good at the whole comfort thing but he hates seeing Henley cry so he figures he can give it a shot and hope for the best.

He's nearly to the chair before Henley looks over and sees him. The emotion that passes over her face is somewhere between embarrassment and surprise as she suddenly realizes she's no longer alone in the room.

"Hey, sorry," she says with a quick, watery smile as she swipes the heel of her hand across her eyes. "I didn't know you were here."

"S'fine," Merritt replies easily, snagging a chair identical to Henley's from it's place against the table and pulling it over to rest beside her's. He adjusts it just slightly so it's facing the window as well, the city scape outside grey and gloomy with the threat of coming rain. If the weather channel is to be believed it's going to be a stormy night so this seems like the perfect place to watch the clouds roll in.

"If it makes you feel better, I didn't know you were here either," he continues, slumping into the chair beside her and sinking down into it. It's a lie but she doesn't need to know that. He props his feet on the window sill and stretches out just enough to be comfortable. "But since we're both here now it might be nice to enjoy the company."

Henley tries for another smile but it falls flat. She doesn't try to hide anything from Merritt, she knows it's pointless and that he's good enough at what he does that she knows he'd pick up on it almost immediately even if she tried. "I'm afraid I'm not very good company right now," she tells him simply as another tear threatens to fall.

Merritt watches her quietly for another silent second, taking in her tight, curled posture and the way she refuses to meet his eyes. The tears are not the result of news of a death; he knows that much just from looking at her. And he highly doubts it's some kind of family dispute because that tends to lead to more of an anger response rather than a quiet withdrawal (he knows about that from personal experience).

Something is bothering her though; she shows all the classic signs of aversion and distress. She's making herself small and quiet, everything about her screaming _don't look at me_. If there was an option for her to sink into the floor and disappear he's nearly certain she'd jump at the opportunity.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asks, trying to keep his tone light and gentle, leaving it open for her to flat out refuse if she wants. Henley looks cornered right now and he doesn't want to spook her anymore than he has to.

She shakes her head once and lets out a soft, shuddering breath. "Not really."

"Okay," Merritt tells her easily, not pushing the subject any further if she doesn't want to. Henley hiccups softly in response, her breath hitching for a microsecond before it comes out in another teary sigh. Merritt watches her from the corner of his eye, leaning back a little further into the chair. "Supposed to rain tonight," he says conversationally, turning his attention briefly to the gray skies outside.

Henley nods slightly, marginally relieved at the change of subject. "Cats and dogs," she replies quietly, her eyes focused on something far away and distant outside the window. Whatever she's seeing, it isn't in this apartment or in this city or possibly even in this state. She's looking for something that may not even have a name. All he knows is that she's looking, searching, _waiting_ for something and has found herself perched in front of the window in an effort to find it.

They don't talk again for a minute, both content to simply stare out at the grey city in amicable silence. It's Henley who breaks the silence after another few seconds and Merritt allows it to happen; if he has any hope of getting to the bottom of this then he knows it has to be on her terms.

"I can't do this anymore, Merritt," she says finally, her voice wavering just slightly when she speaks.

"Do what, darlin'?" he asks, the term of endearment coming out before he has a chance to stop it. In their time working together he's grown to view the other Horsemen as something of a found family in place of the one he was born into. His own flesh and blood had turned out to be something of a disappointment so he'll gladly take a surrogate over a swindler brother and absentee parents. Henley had become the sister he never had in a family he stumbled into and he'll be damned if he just going to sit idly by and let her cry.

"This," Henley says, gesturing around the room briefly with one hand. "All of this." She shakes her head and wipes her eyes again. "I feel like we're stuck, you know? Like we're at this fixed point and we can't move any further."

She sniffs and slumps back against the chair a little more. "We haven't heard from The Eye in over two months and we're stuck hiding out here like escaped convicts."

Technically that was true; they were, more or less, still on the FBI's list of wanted criminals and they'd had to keep an extremely low profile ever since their last show. The problem with their shows was that now the entire world knew their faces and there were very few places they could go without being recognized.

"It's like they've abandoned us," Henley continues, her voice just slightly stronger as she ropes in the few remaining tears. She's irritated now, her voice clipped and tight as she speaks. "Like we did what they wanted us to do and now we're on our own. We haven't gotten anymore instructions, anymore orders, we've been dropped."

So part of this stemmed from a feeling of abandonment. Fair enough. If he's perfectly honest with himself he's wondered the same thing over the past few weeks. Before their final show, instructions from The Eye would come at least once a week, tips and advice and the assurance that they were doing everything right. After that last show, though, once they disappeared and left the Horsemen behind them, the communication had stopped all together.

Dylan assured them that The Eye was still working with them, that all they had to do was be patient and wait, but as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks stretched into months, it became harder to believe. It felt like they were promised the world only to be marooned on a deserted island at the last minute.

He's not sure who started to question it first, Daniel or Jack, but both of them began to wonder just what the hell they'd gotten themselves into. Merritt wasn't too far behind them, his own questions and doubts rising to the surface after another few weeks passed with no word from The Eye. Henley must have finally fallen into the same hole they had, her faith and conviction in their mysterious benefactors wavering. It's understandable, sure, and he doesn't blame her, but the tears and the distress indicate that it's something deeper than that.

"Between that and our current situation and Danny and-"

He stops listening for a second because right there is the root of all this even if Henley doesn't realize it. He's known about Henley's feelings for Daniel ever since they met; it didn't take a mentalist to see that she was completely in love with him. It also didn't take a mentalist to see that Daniel Atlas had more baggage than a luggage claim at LAX in the middle of Spring break.

He knew about Daniel's demons, the literal and figurative scars he hid from the world, but he doubts the others did. Daniel was careful not to reveal anything about his past; in fact he seemed to go out of his way to avoid the subject completely. The only reason Merritt knew was because he had literally pried it out of him in the middle of a drunken confession binge and he had subsequently sworn himself to absolute secrecy in the wake of it. Daniel's demons belonged to him as well now but he also had the younger man's trust which was an enormous responsibility he didn't plan on breaking.

The problem with all of this was that Henley didn't understand and without the threat of torture or grievous bodily harm, Daniel would more than likely never tell her. Not because he didn't trust her but because he didn't want to reveal that list of ugly, heartbreaking truths to someone as loving and open as Henley. It would hurt her more than it ever hurt him and he couldn't do that. So he pushes her away and keeps his distance because that's what he's good at. It's what he's spent his life doing.

But Henley still doesn't understand and because Daniel won't tell her, she never will. She stays because she loves him, she wants to be with him, but Daniel mentally and emotionally can't let her in. And with every withdrawal and unintentionally cutting remark, Henley's heart breaks a little more.

Daniel is the root of all of this, he probably has been all along, but the cumulation of other factors finally found its breaking point today. And yeah, Merritt wants to be mad at Daniel for making Henley cry but he can't because he understands it from both sides. He knows about Daniel's issues but he also sees that Henley is deeply in love with him and wants nothing more than to be let in. It's a slippery, terrible slope, one that will lead to disaster no matter what.

Henley has trailed off by this point, shaking her head slightly and sniffling. "Sorry, I'm just…" she trails off again and sighs. "I'm just so tired, you know? Tired of waiting around, tired of being patient and hoping for the best."

Merritt nods although he's not sure if she's talking about The Eye or Daniel anymore. He watches her carefully, taking note of the conflict and struggle in her eyes. She wants to leave, make a run for it and never come back, but she wants to stay too. Leaving would give her a fresh start, staying would keep her with The Eye and Daniel and the Horsemen. There's no easy solution.

"You could try speaking with The Eye," he says after another second, weighing his words carefully. He doesn't know if it will work but if anyone deserved to have their plight heard it was Henley. "Maybe they'll hear you out."

She lets out a breathy little laugh and shakes her head slowly like the thought itself is crazy. All of them had tried in various ways to communicate with The Eye over the past few weeks with no results. Still, she seems to contemplate it for a few silent seconds, her eyes leveled on the city outside. "You think they'd listen to me?" she asks, almost more to herself than to Merritt.

"Couldn't hurt," he says honestly because the worst that can happen is they just don't answer. It wouldn't be anything new, really. "We don't really have a lot to lose."

Henley smiles then, a weak, watery version of her normal grin, and shakes her head. "You're right, we don't."

She stands slowly then, unfolding out of the chair carefully and straightening to her full height. She keeps her eyes on the skyline for a few more seconds before turning to look at him. "Thank you, Merritt."

"Don't mention it, kiddo," he tells her, watching as she turns and disappears into the hallway leading to her room. The living room is empty now save for him, the low rumble of thunder echoing high overhead. He slumps a little more into the chair and looks back out across the city as rain begins to fall from above.

Henley leaves two days later. She doesn't tell the others and she has every intention of slipping away in the middle of the night but Merritt meets her at the door. He'd been watching her since the day he found her crying and knew it was only a matter of time before she made her break. He doesn't know where she's going or what she'll do when she gets there but The Eye apparently gave her an out and she took it.

"You sure about this?" he asks quietly in the 2 am silence of their shared apartment. Daniel and Jack are asleep and once again it's just him and Henley in the living room. She has a single duffle bag and heavy heart, that's all she takes with her.

She chews on her bottom lip unconsciously, nervous, uncomfortable. Finally she nods hesitantly, trying to make her decision seem more firm. "I won't know unless I go," she tells him quietly, her voice still a little unsure as she speaks.

Merritt just nods in understanding; as much as he may not want her to go, he knows Henley can't stay here for much longer. The pain of hanging on with nothing to cling to was slowly killing her. She needed to go, get away and start again. Henley was strong, she could make it on her own; she just needed that push to understand she could.

"I know, darlin'," he tells her, pulling her into a gentle hug. "We're going to miss you."

Henley clings to him briefly, her breath catching a little. "I'll miss you too. Take care of everyone, okay?"

"As long as you promise to take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Good."

She starts to pull away but Merritt holds her to him for a second longer, pressing his thumb gently into the pressure point behind her ear and leaning in close. "Relax and listen to my voice. Think of nothing but these words as you walk down the hallway and get in the cab outside. I want you to get as far away from this apartment as you can, forget about the Horsemen and the heists and the robberies. You're Henley Reeve, expert magician and escape artist. You can do anything. You can be anyone. Be strong, make a name for yourself, and never look back."

Henley slumps just a little against him as he speaks, not asleep but not completely alert either. When Merritt releases her, he turns her in the direction of the elevators and watches as she walks away, slightly dazed but steady on her feet. He closes the door and she doesn't look back.

 **OOOOO**

Jack is proposing a skills trade. It's a good way to pass the time and it might be beneficial to learn some new tricks in the process. At least that the argument Jack uses. Merritt takes him up on the offer because the kid has a point and it's not like they're doing anything else at the moment.

Henley's departure had definitely left its mark on the remaining Horsemen, leaving their situation even more hopeless and depressing than it was before. Merritt was the only one who knew about her reasons for leaving and he wasn't about to villainize her by telling the others so he kept it to himself. Daniel took it pretty hard, throwing himself even more into trying to make contact with The Eye and going through just about every avenue of communication he could think of from email to carrier pigeons. Each attempt was met with nothing but silence and the continued lack of response just added to the desperation.

Jack lamented her absence in his own way, going through card trick after card trick in a half-hearted daze. He performed the same trick for hours on end, day after day, barely paying attention to the cards themselves and going through the motions in a stiff, robotic way. He flipped the cards in complex and impressive patterns through the air like they were connected to wires with complete disinterest. Other times he'd rip the cards into two or three pieces, clapping his hands together with the disconnected pieces to reveal a perfect, fully formed card like nothing had ever happened. For him the trick appeared no more impressive than watching paint dry.

That's how he makes his proposition to Merritt. They're sitting in the living room one day, Merritt with his hat pulled low over his eyes and Jack casually/carelessly flipping card after card over his shoulder to land perfectly in a vase behind him. He never looks back and he never has to; each card lands in the vase like there's a magnet attached to one side.

"Think you could teach me to hypnotize someone?" he asks out of nowhere, glancing at Merritt while still flipping the cards over his shoulder.

Merritt nudges the brim of his hat up and looks at him curiously. "Possibly. Where'd the sudden desire for mind control come from?"

Jack chuckles (it seems like the first time he's actually laughed since Henley left) and shakes his head. "Come on, man, I know it's not mind control." Another card flips through the air lazily and Jack has a lot of room to diss the concept of mind control when it looks like he's fully capable of telekinesis with cards. "You watch people and you know what to say so make them listen to you."

Merritt shrugs one shoulder loosely. "It's a bit more complicated than that, kid."

The other magician is undaunted. "Alright, so teach me. Can't be that hard, right?" He flips another card and snatches it out of the air just as quickly. "You teach me about hypnosis and I'll teach you how to float cards. Sound fair?"

Merritt smirks at the offer and pulls himself up a bit straighter in the chair. If he's honest with himself he's always been impressed with Jack's card skills. He works with them naturally like they're an extension of his own body, fluid and seamless. It's fascinating to watch and yeah, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in the craft. "Alright, Mr. Wilder, you have yourself a deal. You show me your tricks and I'll show you mine."

Jack grins and flips the last card over his shoulder, expertly sinking it in the vase. Bastard. "Deal."

They spend the next several weeks trying to teach one another their respective skills. Jack turns out to be a remarkably fast learner and picks up the basics of hypnosis rather quickly. It's all about voice and tone, repetition and alliteration. Merritt teaches him the subtle art of suggestion and injunction, how to implant thoughts and ideas and craft them into reactive form. Jack soaks it up like a sponge, absorbing every lesson and committing it to memory.

He hasn't mastered the delivery though and anytime he tries to turn the tables on Merritt and practice his hypnosis techniques on him, it backfires quickly. First of all, Merritt has had several more years of experience in hypnosis and the power of suggestion and can easily avoid falling for the basic tools and tricks used in a standard session.

Second, Jack comes on way too strong, speaking too quickly and eagerly and getting caught up in the action itself rather than the delivery. It falls apart halfway through and he's left tongue-tied with a non-hypnotized volunteer in the wake of it.

It doesn't stop him from trying though and he ambushes Merritt relentlessly for the next few weeks trying one up him. It's like living with a hyperactive hypnosis ninja 24-hours a day.

In retaliation, Merritt flips the script and turns the tables on his hapless pupil, hypnotizing Jack after every failed attempt and doing things like making him suddenly forget his own name (he convinced him it was Jake for four full days once), go completely mute, trip through every single doorway of their apartment, and any other little annoying suggestions he could influence him with.

Jack is persistent though, Merritt will give him that. He's getting better and he's learning and tweaking his tactics as he goes, one day at time. He'll get the hang of it eventually.

Merritt...not so much. In spite of his best efforts, Merritt simply cannot make the cards jump and flow as smoothly as Jack does. He watches him carefully, taking in every minute detail down to the finger twitch before the card is released trying to figure out how to do it and he still struggles. Jack is patient and accommodating, breaking each trick down to its smallest component and walking through it slowly while Merritt looks on.

He makes it look absurdly easy and Merritt is only slightly (okay, maybe more than slightly) irritated when he doesn't get the hang of it. He works at it tirelessly, trying to flip the cards into elaborate patterns and designs while catching them easily and shuffling them back into the deck to continue the motion. It doesn't work and he usually ends up with a puddle of cards at his feet and a few resting on his hat and shoulders. All the while, Jack just smiles and hands him a new deck, encouraging him to try again.

It does help pass the time though and before they realize it, two months have passed since Henley left and they've started to receive a few short, cryptic instructions from The Eye. It's nothing substantial, little more than a "be patient and wait" kind of message, but it's better than the unbearable silence they'd been stuck with before. Daniel is still antsy and circling like a barn rat but Merritt and Jack are happy enough to follow The Eye's instructions and lay low for the time being.

They keep working on their opposite skills, Jack with his hypnosis and Merritt with his card tricks, until they've both gotten comfortable with the basics. Start at the bottom and work your way up, that's the foundation of every great skill set. Jack has nearly mastered the basics of standard hypnosis by the beginning of June and Merritt has slowly but surely improved his card throwing skills so he can manage to get about 30 out of 52 cards in a vase when he's practicing. It's progress, no matter how small.

They're standing in an alley one night, tossing cards at an abandoned car. Jack is demonstrating a new trick, passing each card cleanly through the windshield of the car to the trunk at the back without ever touching the interior of the car. It's an impressive trick, clean and controlled, and he tries to teach the technique to Merritt. It doesn't work all that well. While Jack's cards sail through the air easily, Merritt's tumble and flutter like a wounded pigeon, landing awkwardly on the hood of the car and staying there. Meh, could be worse.

Daniel appears in the alley a few minutes later and it's just the break they need, Jack from teach and Merritt from failing. Jack swats him in the chest with the back of his hand lightly as the other magician approaches. "If I can hypnotize Danny before we get to the apartment I get top bunk for a week."

Merritt smirks and lets him go because in spite of how much Jack has learned and improved over the past few months, Daniel Atlas was not an easy target to hypnotize. It would be easier to try it on a fence post.

Jack falls into step beside him, feining small talk before jumping right into trying to hypnotize his fellow Horsemen. Daniel doesn't even slow down and simply shrugs off the attempt, leaving a marginally disappointed Jack in his wake. Merritt just smirks again and keeps walking; like he said, easier to hypnotize a fence post.

 **OOOOO**

Lula is convinced she can't be hypnotized. She tells him repeatedly following the Macau incident that no, it wasn't hypnosis, it was binaural beats and those are enough to knock anyone out so she's still never been hypnotized because it's _different_ , Merritt. She's not snarky or rude about it, she's just utterly convinced that it doesn't affect her. Merritt is more than happy to prove her wrong.

He does it for the first time about two weeks after they officially join The Eye. Things had been quiet for a while, more relaxed than any of them can remember, and Lula brings it up again one afternoon when they're all sitting around in one of the many lounges.

"You know it's like acupuncture or meditation or chakra healing; some people just don't take to hypnotism that well," she says, half-curled, half-sprawled in a loveseat tucked up under a window. She looks completely at ease and comfortable in spite of the fact that they're all in a still relatively new place. That's one of the first things he noticed about Lula; she could make herself at home pretty much anywhere.

"You know, like Danny and Dylan aren't affected by it," she continues, waving one hand in their direction but it goes unnoticed by both. Daniel is fully engrossed in a book and Dylan is flipping through an old folder covered in odd symbols that look an awful lot like runes. Neither say anything about the comment other than a cursory eyebrow quirk on Dylan's part.

"I'm starting to think I'm like that too," Lula continues, flopping her head back on the arm of the couch, her dark hair spilling over equally dark leather. "I mean I've tried to be hypnotized several times and it never works. Like I've _really_ tried and the only thing that happens is I just stand there like an idiot. Maybe I'm immune."

"Professional hypnotism is different," Merritt tells her simply, tilting the brim of his hat up so he can see her. "The ones you see at fairs and carnivals don't count; they're just there for the money."

"Isn't that what you did for a while?"

Okay, ouch. Merritt offers a wan smile in response. "Yeah, but what I did for money was little more than parlor tricks and you're right, not everyone takes to that. True, honest to God mentalism and hypnosis is harder to resist; only a few strong-willed souls are able to fight it." He gestures toward Daniel and Dylan again with one hand. "Hence our endearingly stubborn resident magicians."

"So how would I know if I'm immune to it?" Lula asks, tilting her head just enough to look over at Merritt again. "Is there like a test? Do I have to be strong with the Force or something?"

The mentalist just smirks and shakes his head. "None of the above. But trust me, kid, you're not immune to it."

Lula pouts for about a split second before bouncing right back to her original argument. "I think I am and you just don't want to admit it. I think I'm stronger-willed than you want give me credit for," she counters easily, her tone light and playful. Talking with Lula was a lot like throwing a boomerang; eventually it was going to come full circle.

"You're going to be disappointed when I prove you wrong," Merritt chastises lightly, catching her eye from across the room.

"Maybe," Lula admits with a cheeky smile. "But you have to prove me wrong first."

Merritt smirks again and shakes his head. He likes Lula; he wasn't sure how she would fit in with their little trio (especially in the wake of Henley's departure) but she filled the void easily. She was hyper and easily excitable, like a puppy on meth, and she was more than eager to be the newest member of the Horsemen. She had a penchant for theatrics and comedy, two traits which coalesced into smooth showmanship and he has a feeling that once they actually let her out on her own and let her do what she did best, she'd blow them away.

But, just like the excitable pup she was, she was about to learn what happened when the big dogs decided to teach a lesson. She'd called him out, challenged him openly, and Merritt has never been one to back down from a challenge. She thinks she can't be hypnotized, she thinks _he_ can't hypnotize her, and Merritt is more than happy to prove a point when he needs to.

He hypnotizes her several times over the next few days. Just like he had done with Jack, he keeps the suggestions and instructions to a minimum, never going too over the top or extravagant. He's sneaky about his delivery too, keeping each exchange short and quick like a simple snippet of conversation. It wouldn't work if Lula caught onto what he was doing so he makes sure to never do anything that would raise her suspicions.

It works remarkably well and he manages to blitz-hypnotize her multiple times over the next few weeks. It's always little things too: sneezing every time one of them pulls the Jack of Diamonds from a deck of cards, humming _Don't Stop Believing_ every time a car honked its horn (whether in real life or on TV), putting her shirt on backwards for three days in a row.

Lula never notices and just goes on about her day, switching her shirt around and humming Journey obliviously. None of the others caught on either (or if they did they didn't say anything). Any weird or unusual behavior Lula exhibited was just chalked up to her being Lula and accepted with little more than a shrug.

Merritt decides to test it a little more and inputs the suggestion that she should grab a beer every time someone mentioned The Eye. He never specifies that she should drink it, only that she leave the room, grab a beer out of the refrigerator, and come back. Once again the first few times it happens no one notices. It's only when it begins to look like Lula has a drinking problem (even though none of the beers are opened) that they begin to catch on.

"Did you seriously hypnotize her to be the world's most inefficient alcoholic?" Jack asks one afternoon when Lula leaves the room to grab yet another beer after Dylan makes a comment about The Eye.

Merritt just shrugs. "I never told her to drink them," he says by way of defense, smirking a little when the other magician returns with her fourth unopened beer of the day. She sets it on the bookshelf and returns to sitting on the couch next to Jack, blinking and looking back at the group like nothing ever happened.

"Alright, creepy," Lula says slowly, looking around the room at her fellow Horsemen. "What's everyone staring at?"

"Nothin' at all," Merritt tells her with another satisfied smirk. "Just proving a point."

"A point about what?" Lula asks, genuinely confused by the comment.

"He proved he could hypnotize you," Daniel tells her simply, still engrossed in the book he has balanced on his lap.

Lula scoffs and shakes her head. "He didn't hypnotize me," she counters with another laugh that doesn't sound nearly as sure as she probably wants it to. She frowns and shakes her head again. "No, I've watched him do it. I'd know if he was doing it to me."

Merritt says nothing and just raises an eyebrow in an "are you sure?" expression.

Lula frowns again and sits silently for a moment, looking back over her shoulder finally at the collection of beer bottles on the bookshelf behind her. She studies them for a few seconds before looking back at Merritt and glaring. "Alright, how did you do that?"

The hypnotist just smirks again and leans back in his chair. "A good magician never reveals his secrets."

 **OOOOO**

Dylan is suffering from PTSD. It's painfully obvious and yet he remains stoically oblivious to it. The list of probable causes is long enough to fill an entire case study but Merritt focuses on the most obvious and recent event as the likely culprit for why Dylan doesn't sleep without nightmares most nights.

Nearly drowning tends to leave a lot of residual trauma and stress and it's probably the reason why he's up at what-the-hell-o'clock-in-the-morning and not asleep like everyone else. Merritt is awake too but that has less to do with repressed psychological trauma and more to do with the fact that he was determined to finish this stupid _James Bond_ marathon if it kills him.

It's exactly 3:23 am when Dylan comes shuffling through the living room, more than likely on his way to the kitchen to make coffee. He gives a polite head tip toward the hypnotist as he passes and Merritt makes a concentrated effort to look surprised at seeing their de facto leader up and out of bed at this time of night. He's not surprised at all, actually; he's been keeping tabs on Dylan and this is the fourth night in the past ten days that he's found himself up and wandering in the middle of the night.

It's starting to show, too, as much as Dylan tries to hide it. It's nothing major at first; a few dark circles and an unstifled yawn here and there but hey, that's everyone. No, it's the smaller things that Merritt picks up on: the slight shaking of the hands, how he seems hyper aware of his surroundings at all times, the way he'll almost imperceptibly tense up when he hears running water.

To his credit, Dylan keeps up the front remarkably well; he's been used to playing double agent for years so it's ridiculously easy for him to hide behind a mask when the need arises. Unfortunately for him, Merritt knows how to pick apart those defenses like they're constructed out of little more than particle board. This has been building for weeks now and soon Dylan is going to crack and when that happens it could be bad. Time to make his move.

"You're up late," he comments as the other Horseman passes through the living room.

Dylan doesn't stop but his pace does slow just a bit. "Yeah," he admits with a slight shrug, one hand passing through his dark, sleep-mussed hair. "Couldn't get comfortable." The conversation trails off after that and Dylan resumes his path to the kitchen.

Merritt doesn't push it any further, not just yet, and instead unfolds himself off the couch and follows the other man into the kitchen. As expected, Dylan is filling the coffee pot with water and rummaging through one of the upper cabinets for the dark roast. Merritt takes in his posture, rigid and tense from another night filled with dreams of cramped safes and lungs filled with water, and says nothing.

"Something on your mind, Merritt?" Dylan asks over one shoulder, not bothering to turn around. He doesn't need to; he's known Merritt was standing there since the beginning.

The other magician shakes his head casually. "Not really. I was just going to say that misery loves company and if you can't sleep you're welcome to join me in watching Pierce Brosnan struggle to portray a suave master spy. Your choice."

Dylan smirks a little and pours a measured amount of coffee into the filter. "Sounds riveting. Better than staring at the ceiling for another hour though."

"Good point," Merritt remarks, stepping out of the kitchen and heading back toward the living room. He doesn't wait around to see if Dylan will follow him or not, he knows he will. The whole point of this plan is for Dylan to be relaxed and completely oblivious; otherwise it won't work.

He slumps back down on the couch, making sure to leave plenty of room for the other man when he comes in. Sure enough, less than five minutes later Dylan joins him in the living room, sitting on the opposite end of the couch and paying the bare minimum of attention to the movie on the screen. He still seems stiff and tense, unable to relax fully like he's prepared to spring into action at any moment. Merritt watches him from the corner of his eye while pretending to focus the attention on the movie instead.

"You know, I think Brosnan was my least favorite Bond," he remarks after a minute, attention still directed toward the TV. He concentrates on keeping his tone light and casual, conversational more than anything. It has the desired effect and Dylan is drawn into the debate easily.

"Yeah?" he asks, glancing at the other magician before looking back at the screen. "I was never a big fan of Moore. He was too bland."

Merritt nods in silent agreement. "Fair point. He got to kiss Jane Seymour though, that has to count for something."

"That's true but it still didn't make him a very good Bond," Dylan counters with a quiet chuckle, glancing back at the TV. "Moore at least tried. He gave off the illusion of being suave and debonair even if he wasn't."

"You're just saying that because you like Famke Janssen."

Dylan smirks a bit. "Maybe."

Merritt smirks as well and settles back against the arm of the couch. Even from their short conversation just now he can see Dylan begin to relax, the tension practically bleeding out of him. As someone who prides himself on being a body language expert he knows exactly the kinds of negative effects that bottling up emotions can cause and Dylan is just a few bottle caps short of having a full blown meltdown. He can't solve the problem himself but he might be able to help, at least for a little while.

They fall into amicable silence for a while, the dull drone of the TV filling the room in the pre-dawn hours. In spite of the coffee cup in his hand, Dylan's eyes begin to droop a little in the opening credits of _Tomorrow Never Dies_ and Merritt uses it to his advantage.

He begins speaking very quietly, a mumbling mutter that sounds a lot like babble. It's monotonous and quiet, white-noise over the chatter of life, and it has the desired effect.

Dylan begins to slump a little more, not completely under but open enough to suggestion that he doesn't shake himself back to awareness. He claims he can't be hypnotized and were he well-rested and on top of his game, that would be true. But he's not there right now; he's exhausted and tense and it's all too easy for Merritt to get in his head when he needs to.

Satisfied that Dylan is at least marginally under his control, Merritt moves on to Phase Two. "Slip slowly, softly, silently into sleep. Sail, swirl, swim...solid, secure, safe...sigh, sit, settle...sea, sand, sky...sea, sand, sky…"

He repeats this mantra twice, keeping his voice low and quiet with each utterance. Dylan's breathing evens out and the tension in his shoulders drains even further. He sits relaxed and still on the opposite end of the couch, his eyes half-lidded and slightly unfocused. Merritt waits for about five seconds after he finishes the second repetition and snaps his fingers.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, Dylan's head drops and his eyes close. He's still upright but he's definitely not awake and that's exactly what Merritt needs from him. He leans a bit closer, keeping his voice low and quiet as he speaks. "Instead of drowning in the Thames you're going to dream about tropical islands. The safe turns into palm trees, the water turns into blue seas, and the nightmares of drowning are replaced with dreams of that pretty blonde Interpol agent who tried to arrest us two years ago."

He places one hand on Dylan's shoulder lightly, grounding his words into the other man's subconscious. "You're not drowning, Dylan. You're on a beach with Alma enjoying a much needed vacation. Keep that in mind."

He removes his hand and snaps his fingers at the same time, Dylan blinking and sitting up straighter a split second later. He frowns and looks around, his eyes settling on Merritt. By this time the other Horseman is lounging languidly against the arm of the couch, looking like he hasn't moved all night.

"You passed out on me," the other magician says by way of explanation, shrugging innocently. "I was just going to let you sleep. Looks like you need it."

Dylan frowns in suspicion and stares at him for a long minute. "You didn't do anything to me, did you?"

Merritt raises his hands in surrender. "Absolutely not. I gave up trying to hypnotize you months ago; it never worked so I don't even try anymore."

Dylan stares at him for a few more minutes before finally relaxing back against the couch and turning his attention back to the movie. It takes less than twenty minutes before he yawns, gives up on Pierce Brosnan, and retreats back to his room with a tired wave over his shoulder to Merritt.

The other magician returns the wave and stretches out more fully on the couch. He knows it won't solve the problem, it's a temporary solution more than anything, but if it gets Dylan to sleep through the night then he can't complain. He won't push the issue unless he needs to; it's better for Dylan to come to the decision himself without outside assistance.

Dylan doesn't have another nightmare for three full weeks.

 **OOOOO**

Daniel is absolute crap at taking care of himself. Like, it borders on ridiculous sometimes. He's stubborn and driven and pushes himself harder than anyone Merritt has ever met and it leads to an almost suicidal lack of personal care. And the worst part is that he doesn't even seem to notice it; he'll work himself into a literal and figurative pit and still think he needs to do more.

Merritt knows a lot of it boils down to Daniel's obsessive need for control, to be on top of everything and always be the smartest guy in the room. He understands that, he really does, but he also thinks Daniel is a bit of an idiot who would sooner drop dead from exhaustion than admit he was tired.

Which is why, after figuring out Daniel hasn't slept in three full days, Merritt decides to intervene. Loath as he is to admit it, Merritt actually cares about the kid and doesn't want to see him work himself into an aneurysm. After learning about Daniel's shitshow of a childhood he started keeping a bit of a closer eye on the younger magician. He doesn't hover or crowd him (he knows Daniel would call him out on it immediately) but he does watch him and make mental notes along the way.

He's found that it's always the smaller signs that show up the most. He ignores the irritability and general snappiness because that's just Daniel and writes off the bags under the eyes because none of them get enough sleep anyway so who is he to judge? No, what catches his attention and what causes him to step in is when Daniel forgets an entire conversation they'd had only a few hours before and then when he swears up, down, and sideways that he saw Henley standing in the garden in the middle of the night. Strike two.

Since memory lapse and hallucinations are usually indicative of brain tumors, drug use, or sleep deprivation (and Merritt is at least reasonably certain it's not chalked up to the first two options) the reasonable conclusion is lack of sleep.

It's bad enough that the others have commented on it as well, suggesting Daniel take a break and get some sleep instead of forcing himself to stay awake. Daniel just offers an easy smile in response and assures them that he's fine and he'll sleep when he gets through. That had been over a day and a half ago and the kid still hasn't slowed down.

Merritt finds him in the library later that evening, holed away in a corner and buried up to his elbows in books. Daniel doesn't seem to notice him approach or if he does he doesn't show it; his eyes remain locked on the pages in front of him and he frowns in concentration.

"Break time, kid," he tells him from across the room, performing a mental countdown to see how long it takes Daniel to look up. Four seconds later, the other Horseman looks up and finally seems to realize someone else is in the room.

"Oh hey," Daniel mumbles distractedly, glancing back down at the book in his hands. "When did you get here?"

"I've been here for about five minutes," Merritt tells him, rolling his eyes a little as he speaks. For being hyper-observant of everything around him, Daniel was remarkably dense sometimes. "You've been down here for the past four hours, it's time to take a break."

When Daniel makes no attempt to move, Merritt sighs heavily. "Look kid, you've got two choices here. You can put down your book for twenty minutes and come up to the kitchen with me and actually eat something or I can send Dylan down here and allow him to "persuade" you. And we all know Dylan knows how to use handcuffs."

Daniel makes some kind of face that Merritt doesn't have a name for and slumps just slightly in the chair. "And I take it you're not going to leave until I come with you?" he asks although the answer to the question seems painfully obvious.

Merritt decides to humor him anyway. "I am not."

With another sigh that's equal parts resignation and annoyance, Daniel marks his place in the book he's pouring over and sets it down. Daniel is stubborn but so is Merritt and the younger man knows he won't get any peace until he agrees to the hypnotist's demands. Rather than argue about it, he gives in and just accepts his fate.

It's another indication of just how tired he is because the usual amount of bitching Daniel engages in is cut down by about half. Merritt has no idea what the other Horseman is so invested in and he doesn't have it in him to question any of that at the moment; he simply settles with getting Daniel out of the room and away from the books for a while.

"Half an hour, tops," Merritt says in response to Daniel's mild half-glare. "Come upstairs, actually sit down and eat a meal, and then I'll be more than happy to let you come back down here and bury yourself in an avalanche of books for the rest of the night. Deal?"

Daniel allows a slight nod in response. "Deal."

"Good."

Daniel follows him back up to the main level of the house and into the kitchen. It's close to midnight and everyone else is either asleep or tucked away in their own room so there's not exactly a crowd when they make their way to the kitchen. Just as well, really; the less distractions the better.

Merritt drops down into a chair at the kitchen table and watches silently as Daniel paces around the kitchen and gathers the ingredients for a sandwich. His presence makes it clear that he's watching and won't be satisfied until he sees the younger man eat a decent meal. Daniel still looks slightly annoyed but more than that he just looks tired. In the harsh lights of the kitchen, his skin is sallow and pale and the bags under his eyes are a bit more prominent. His movements are heavy and measured like it's taking a lot more effort than he really wants it to. He needs sleep and he's too damn stubborn to admit it.

"So what are you studying so hard downstairs?" Merritt asks by way of conversation, his eyes tracking the younger man's movements around the room.

Daniel is silent for a moment and Merritt almost starts to think he didn't hear him. That or the sleep deprivation was making easy conversation difficult. Honestly, it could be either other them.

"It's this old manuscript I stumbled across a couple days ago," Daniel tells him after another second or so of silence, glancing back over one shoulder. He turns back to where he's constructing a sandwich on the counter and continues. "It focuses on a theory developed in the 13th century, the _Paladin's Pursuit_. It's basically a theoretical method for obtaining and cultivating pure magical energy."

"Sounds very Warcraft-y," Merritt says, keeping his eyes locked on the younger man's back as he moves around. Judging from the stiff, jerkiness of his movements, Merritt's guessing the kid has about another hour, possibly two, before his body starts physically shutting down from lack of sleep.

The younger magician shrugs one shoulder slightly and goes about putting away condiments and utensils. "Kind of," he allows after a second or so of silence. "There's a lot of sound science behind it, though. The theory was developed back in 1247 by this philosopher named Vagas. No one is really sure how he did it but his writings reflect a mastered understanding of modern chemistry and physics; there are even sections over transmutation and practical alchemy. Magicians have been working for centuries to decode his work but with little success."

"And let me guess, you want to be the first to figure it out," Merritt says as Daniel turns around and makes his way to the table.

The other Horseman drops down into the chair heavily and shakes his head. "In spite of your frequent comments about me and my ego, Merritt, I don't want to be the first to figure it out," Daniel tells him evenly and there's no escaping the exhaustion in his voice. Any other time and the suggestion might have led to an argument but not tonight; Daniel is worn so thin right now he doesn't even have it in him to bicker. Strike three.

"It's interesting, that's all," Daniel continues, taking a bite of his sandwich and chewing deftly. "To be that far ahead of his time, to know that much about things that we've only recently started to understand…" he trails off and shakes his head. "It's like unlocking some kind of secret of the universe."

Merritt watches him quietly for a second. It's a very rare moment when J. Daniel Atlas actually looks young and vulnerable but in the yellow fluorescent glow of the kitchen lights that's exactly what happens. He looks like a college kid who's pulled more than one too many all nighters, head filled with knowledge they don't understand and can barely comprehend anymore, and is just teetering on the brink of collapse. It won't be long now and Merritt would much rather the night end with Daniel in a bed here than in one at the hospital.

"As fascinating as I'm sure this book is," Merritt begins carefully, keeping his tone light and even. He knows sleep deprivation can do crazy things to a person's mental and emotional stability and the last thing he wants to do is tip Daniel over that threshold. "I think you should leave it alone for the night and get some sleep. You look like a damn zombie, kid. These late nights are starting to take their toll."

Daniel looks momentarily miffed but it's fleeting and gone a split second later. "I appreciate the concern, Merritt, but I'm fine. Really."

"You're not," Merritt counters easily, receiving a dull glare in response. "But I won't push it; you're an adult so the decision is yours but if you work yourself into a hospital bed by the end of the week I reserve the right to scream "I told you so" from every rooftop in the city. Deal?"

Daniel smirks faintly and picks up his empty plate. "Knock yourself out," he tells him as he stands and makes his way over to the kitchen. Merritt doesn't miss the way he sways as he walks.

"You first, kid," the older magician mutters quietly to himself, standing silently and making his way across the kitchen to where Daniel is standing. He comes to a stop behind him, waiting until just the right moment to make his move. It happens less than a second later when Daniel turns around and finds himself face-to-face with the hypnotist.

That split second of surprise is all Merritt needs and he lifts his hand up quickly, flashing his watch in front of the younger man's eyes. "Stare at the watch face, nothing but the watch, watch the watch. Watch the watch hands tick-tock, tick-tock, ticking down, down, down. It's late, so very, very late and you're getting so tired as you continue to watch the watch."

Hypnosis normally doesn't work on Daniel; he thinks it's a flawed science, a party trick more than a skill, but it's working on him now. Just one more testament to prove how tired he actually is and how open his sleep deprived mind is to suggestion. He stares at the watch, silent and swaying, listening to every word and blinking slowly.

"Watch the watch, watch, watch, watch. Each second pulling you down, further down, down and down. You're getting tired, heavy, weak. Nothing in the world sounds better than sleep. So that's what you do. You watch the watch and you go to sleep."

And that's exactly what happens. The second the word 'sleep' leaves Merritt's mouth, Daniel slumps like his legs have been cut out from under him and it's only Merritt's quick reaction to step forward and catch him that keeps him from collapsing to the ground. His head lands heavily in the juncture between Merritt's head and his shoulder and the hypnotist lets a small 'oomph' as he struggles to keep the younger man upright.

He realizes, rather belatedly, that this probably would have worked better if they were somewhere near a bed or a couch or basically anything that was softer than the kitchen floor. Still, retrospection is a poignant balm for the soul and he finds himself supporting an unconscious magician and struggling to figure out how to get them both out of the kitchen with dropping Daniel to the floor like a sack of sand.

Daniel managed to stay close enough to the counter that's he'd now half-propped, half-wedged against the cabinetry; it's probably one of the few things keeping him upright honestly. It takes a bit of maneuvering but Merritt manages to dip down just enough to drape the younger man over his shoulder like a human scarf, straightening slowly once he's certain Daniel isn't going to slump off of him.

He keeps one arm clamped around the back of the kid's knees and reaches up with the other to rest his hand against the other magician's lower back for added support. It's an awkward position, sure, but it's better than having to explain the inevitable concussion that would have occurred when Daniel smacked his head on the floor.

Daniel is not light, that much is certain, but he's lighter than Merritt expected him to be (the product of too many sleepless nights and a diet that consisted almost exclusively of black coffee and toast) which just adds another tally to the J.-Daniel-Atlas-is-physically-unable-to-take-care-of-himself book. Merritt grumbles to himself and hoists Daniel a little higher on his shoulder, turning in the direction of the kitchen door and making his way into the hall.

"You and me are gonna have a real long talk about your questionable personal habits, kid," he mutters as he makes his way down the hall, Daniel still slumped over his shoulder. "You wanna untangle to webs of the universe? Fine. But you're gonna eat a damn meal while you do it."

He nudges Daniel's door open and shuffles inside the darkened room. For being such a control freak about everything else, Daniel's room looks like a marginally organized catastrophe. What clothes are not hanging in the closet are piled on the floor and hanging haphazardly out of drawers. The desk is stacked precariously with towers of books and a couple dozen notebooks are scattered across the surface.

It looks like a controlled explosion took place in the room but surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, as Merritt is annoyed to see) the only area that's clear is the bed. The bedding and comforter are rumpled but mostly undisturbed, an undeniable sign that the bed itself hasn't been used in a while. Like 'longer than three days' a while.

Now that he thinks about it, Merritt doesn't actually remember the last time he saw Daniel retire to his room to sleep. He knows, logically, it has to happen some time and that Daniel is not a robot and actually sleeps like the rest of them but the appearance of the bed makes it seem like the instance are few and far between. For some reason that just makes him more irritated.

"Long, _long_ talk," he grumbles to the unconscious magician as he walks across the room to the bed. He manages to flip Daniel off his shoulder and onto the bed without cracking his skull on the wall (no small feat considering the kid's lankiness) and wrestles the comforter out from under him to drape it over his sleeping form. Daniel somehow manages to sleep through the entire thing which is fantastic and annoying at the same time because deadweight gets damn heavy after a while.

Satisfied that the kid is still dead to the world, Merritt crouches beside the bed to where he's only a few inches from the other magician. He reaches out a presses his thumb lightly to the pressure point just above Daniel's ear and speaks softly. "You're going to sleep for the next eighteen hours. Even when you wake up your body will feel an irresistible urge to go right back to sleep. Your eyelids will feel heavy, your thoughts will be sluggish, and you will want nothing more than to go back to bed."

The only response from Daniel is his slow, deep breathing. The lines of tension bleed out of his expression and in the dim light of the room he looks much younger than he actually is. Merritt grumbles to himself again and tugs the comforter a bit higher over the sleeping magician. "Sleep tight, kid."

He leaves the room and shuts the door quietly behind him. If the hypnosis works (and he's pretty sure it will considering how sleep deprived Daniel is) then they won't be seeing the other Horseman for at least another day. Satisfied, he walks down the hall and heads toward the library, intent on locking the door as an added measure of preventing Daniel from returning to his books, at least for a little while. Honestly, the things he puts up with...

* * *

 **Thanks for reading guys! :D**


End file.
